


Circus Clowns

by Bryony (REBB)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Masks, Post-Canon, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REBB/pseuds/Bryony
Summary: Heero visits Trowa at the circus. Masks go on, and masks come off.
Relationships: Trowa Barton/Heero Yuy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Circus Clowns

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, has it really been a YEAR and I still haven't finished crossposting all my ancient old fics yet? (2009 this one is from.) I am going to up my game, I swear.

Heero showed up one day and they ended up having sex in the menagerie. It was the first time in a long time that Trowa had fucked somebody without having an ulterior motive. He wanted to know what Heero’s was.

Instead he said, “Hey. Heero. You ever think of joining the circus?”

This was a joke, but Heero took him at his word. He glanced over briefly then turned his attention back to doing up his fly. “No,” he replied shortly. “I don’t like people looking at me.”

Trowa’s eyes drifted to the lion cage as he took this information in. Old Bozo stared mournfully back at him from inside his prison, then flopped down onto his side with a tired wheeze. “You’d be surprised,” he said eventually. “People don’t really look at you at all.” It was a good place to get lost, the circus. “Why did you come here?”

Heero thought about it. “I was in the area.” He paused, then added, “And I was horny.” His answer made Trowa laugh.

“Good reason.”

Silence.

Heero had finished dressing but he hadn’t left yet. He was just standing there and staring. At the cages. At the canvas tent billowing above them. At Trowa. “I didn’t see you perform the last time I was here.”

“You wouldn’t have. You were injured.”

Heero shrugged one shoulder, a strange gesture coming from him. Or maybe he was just remembering the feel of his injured arm. His face gave nothing away. That, at least, was still the same. So far as Trowa knew, he himself hadn’t changed at all. A prickle of resentment fizzled in his chest then died. It didn’t matter. He stood up and turned to go.

“Hey.”

Heero’s voice stopped him.

Trowa turned around and saw him frowning in a funny sort of way.

“Can I try on your clown mask?”

No one had ever asked him that before, and the question provoked first surprise and then blind panic. Trowa’s instinct screamed out against it, _No! No! No!_ An irrational response to an irrational request. He clenched his teeth to think clearly, but body and mind alike had frozen. Finally, he sucked in a noisy, sloppy breath of air, ashamed, still horror-struck. The last time he’d had such a sickening physical response to so simple a mental stimulus had been years ago, amnesiac. He’d always been grateful that Heero had never been witness to those moments of weakness -- but now…

He was staring at him with something almost like concern in his eyes, then shaking his head and saying, “It’s okay; never mind.” And turning to go.

“No, it’s fine,” Trowa barked, before his mouth could rebel again. “Try it on, if you want.” _I don’t care_ would have been the next sentence, but that would have told Heero all too clearly that he did.

Heero nodded, and Trowa led the way to the dressing room, feeling sick and saying nothing. It was deserted now, the show long over, and he knelt in front of his trunk, tiny nervous tremors which he tried to hide still running through his hands as he unlocked it. The mask sat on top. He didn’t touch it, just stood up and walked to the other side of the tent, his hands now shoved deep inside his pockets. “It’s all yours,” he said to Heero as he passed.

He wasn’t going to watch, but after a few seconds he turned around anyway, driven half by determination and half by curiosity. Heero hadn’t even picked it up yet; he was just standing in front of the trunk, staring down at its contents. He turned his head and looked Trowa levelly in the eye, and Trowa knew he was offering him one last out, but even though he was a stripped-down, naked, virginal sap his heart was hardening and his rationality returning. “Go on,” he urged impatiently, straining for indifference but failing to quite reach it.

Then Heero did as he was told: scooped up the mask and put it over his face with the same economy of motion he used for everything.

Breath gusted out of Trowa’s lungs. He felt weak. And something else, too, underneath; something, something…

But mostly he felt weak.

Heero ran his hand down the side of the mask; under its eye; across its lips before placing it gently back in Trowa’s trunk and turning back around. “Thanks,” he said simply, no explanation offered for his strange request.

It was Trowa’s turn to shrug.

He’d expected Heero to leave then, just turn around and walk away, but instead the other boy continued standing there, arms crossed casually across his chest and staring at him. It was getting late and he hadn’t fed the animals yet. They’d be getting restless waiting for him. If he didn’t do it soon the manager would come looking for him, angry. Eventually his impatience to be gone seemed to get through to Heero, who stirred and straightened, dropping his arms back to his sides. “Thanks,” he said again. “I’ll go now.”

He would have liked to know what Heero was getting at by coming here, but didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want Heero to stick around with the advantage while he was figuring it out. So he just inclined his head and said, “That’s fine. See you.”

Heero started to walk past but paused by Trowa’s side. Trowa turned to see why he had stopped and then Heero was kissing him, his mouth hard and thin against Trowa’s, but not demanding, so Trowa allowed it to continue.

When it was over Heero continued on his way again, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll come again tomorrow maybe. To see you.”

Trowa wondered if he understood. As usual, it seemed like Heero did. Maybe it really was that simple.


End file.
